


strawberry girl gaze

by funkism



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Haha Just Kidding. Unless?, Pining, Platonic Intimacy Turned Unintentional Psychological Warfare, doing your best friend's make up and then you kiss: the fic, mentions of alcohol and recreational drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkism/pseuds/funkism
Summary: Falling in love with your best friend is the worst.
Relationships: Kim Jiwoo | Chuu/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Comments: 29
Kudos: 137





	strawberry girl gaze

**Author's Note:**

> every part of posting this has been actual hellfire I'm so sorry to everyone I've bothered for help. title and summary will be changed at some point, probably. this was inspired by tweets like [this](https://twitter.com/latixs/status/1283515169767817218?s=20). 
> 
> thank you hui and bobby for your support while I was writing this. thank you dylan, claire, and anu for being there at the very end.

It starts with Jungeun and Jiwoo’s first excursion out of the city. 

It starts with Jungeun’s head in Jiwoo’s lap, clouds crawling by overhead.

It starts with Jiwoo's fingers running through her hair, leaving trails of heat on Jungeun’s scalp that burn and smoulder in their wake, a pleasant opposite to the cool air of the day. 

It’s an easy thing, looking at Jiwoo from here, blinking up at her jawline as she cranes her head back, face turned to the sky. It’s an easy thing, thinking _I love you_ in her head; feeling it between her ears, in her chest, all the way down to her toes.

It’s harder, when Jungeun realizes she means it. 

Hits her like— _oh._

_I love her_.

And it hurts. 

In a way she completely expects, it hurts. 

Because this can only go so many ways, and Jungeun never thought she’d be the one in this situation. Didn’t think it’d touch _Jungeun-and-Jiwoo_. This can only go so many ways, and Jungeun will not be the one seeing it go up in flames because she feels a certain way all of a sudden. 

(A small part of her wants to challenge that, ask her, _what if it’s not ‘all of a sudden’?_ which the other, larger part of her takes great pleasure in blatantly ignoring.)

For a split second, Jungeun feels it—in the back of her throat, an ‘ _I love you’_.

Just like that. 

She’s said it to Jiwoo before, but this is different and she knows it. She hates it. And still, it’s there. That small part of her clasping its hands, begging, pleading her to just _say it_. 

But it’s _different_ and she doesn't know what to do with that, so she swallows it down. She buries it deep and stares at the underside of Jiwoo’s jaw, terrified and grateful the sky is keeping Jiwoo’s attention away from her. 

“Jungeun?” she says. _Fuck nevermind._

Jungeun crosses her arms over her chest and steels herself, hopes that nothing strange shows on her face. It’s harder now that she’s hyper aware of the way her heart jumps when Jiwoo glances at her. 

She acknowledges Jiwoo with a _hm?_

“Pass me a strawberry?” asks Jiwoo.

Jungeun doesn’t say anything, relieved, just nods. Jiwoo doesn’t retract her fingers from Jungeun’s hair, instead weaving them tighter when Jungeun tries to roll off of her. She rolls her eyes and knocks their picnic basket closer with her foot. With some maneuvering, she manages to pick out a strawberry, holding it for Jiwoo to take. She holds it and holds it, then realizes Jiwoo’s fingers are still tangled tight in her hair. 

“What?” she grunts, looking up reluctantly.

Jiwoo’s waiting with her mouth open, eyes fixed on Jungeun’s hand.

“...Hello?”

“ _Please,_ ” Jiwoo whines.

Jungeun’s cheeks burn.

She thinks, rather seriously, that she’d rather jump out of the van on their way back into the city than put her fingers anywhere near Jiwoo’s mouth in her current—disastrous, miserable, cursed—state. But Jiwoo also looks like she’s about to say _please_ like that again and Jungeun wants that even less, so she pops the strawberry in Jiwoo’s mouth and immediately crosses her arms again, tucking her chin against her chest so Jiwoo can’t see her face.

Oblivious to Jungeun’s plight, Jiwoo goes back to carding her fingers through her hair, and Jungeun knows, with a growing sense of foreboding, that she’s absolutely fucked.

###

It’s been weeks, maybe even a month. Jungeun’s lost track. Time passes strangely in the summer, doesn’t it? 

They’re in Jiwoo’s room. They’ve been here a million times before throughout the years, at different times and in different ways, but today Jungeun sits on the edge of Jiwoo’s bed and fidgets, nails tapping against her phone as she turns it over and over and over in her hands. When it’s right side up the screen wakes up, and the picture she set as her lockscreen—Jungeun and Jiwoo, but most importantly Jiwoo, with their hair splayed out on the hillside grass, laughing under a purpling sky—has an uncanny way of staring back at her. The strawberry decal that Jiwoo stuck on the back of her phone case ages ago is just as bad, taunting her at every other turn.

Jiwoo sits across from her, kneeling in front of her mirror, brushing sections of her bangs out of her face, then frowning and shaking them back down over her forehead. She keeps asking Jungeun which way looks better, and Jungeun keeps telling her the one she’s currently wearing does, to which Jiwoo huffs— _you’re just saying that_ —and then they do it all again, and again.

They’ve been here awhile.

Jungeun doesn’t mind though, sitting here, waiting. Watching her. That sounds weird. Jungeun means she doesn’t mind sitting here, in Jiwoo’s room while Jiwoo fusses with her bangs because she keeps her windows open for Jungeun and plays music they both like and it’s the only time they’re with each other that Jungeun’s looking at her and Jiwoo’s not looking back. 

That sounds weird, too, maybe.

Jungeun never had a problem with Jiwoo looking at her. Jiwoo looking at her was never a _thing_. But now it’s a _thing_. At its worst, it's everything it's always been (nothing), yet so much more (literally everything). At its other worst, it makes Jungeun feel seen in the most horrible way—like Jiwoo _knows_. 

Like her lockscreen.

Like the strawberry decal.

She glances down at her phone as the screen goes bright again. 

Jungeun remembers Jiwoo picking grass out of her hair. Remembers sitting in Jiwoo’s van on the way back, staring, even then, at what was the first picture they took together. She remembers her fingers setting it as her lock screen as if possessed, Jiwoo yelling the words to a song next to her, neither of them knowing the very thing that sank its claws into Jungeun would only get worse, would only further curl around her ribs and shake her entire chest like she’s nothing every time Jiwoo gets too close in the coming weeks. 

Has she mentioned that she’s so, so fucked?

“Oh, to be _bald_ ,” Jiwoo laments.

Jungeun sits straighter on the bed, pulled out of her thoughts. She doesn’t say anything for a second, confused, then realizes Jiwoo’s complaining about her bangs.

“You’re still on this?” she asks, doing her best to look normal when she leans back on her hands and cocks her head to the side. (What the fuck is _looking normal_ , anyway?) “You’ve had bangs for like, two years now, why are you still struggling so hard?”

Jiwoo whines, flopping backwards onto the impossibly soft rug that takes up most of her floor. 

“It’s not the bangs, it’s the _sections!_ The _bits_ , Jungeun. The vision, the _look_ —”

“It _looks_ like we’re late, as per usual,” Jungeun interrupts without checking her phone, a tightness in her chest easing as they fall back onto something familiar. She pretends to be deep in thought. “Shaving it all off _would_ get us places sooner...”

“Jungeun!” Jiwoo squawks, flinging her arms over her head. “ _No._ ”

“You suggested it.”

“I take it all back, I’m ready.”

Jungeun perks up, doesn’t think before she says, “Actually?”

“Oh, wait, I forgot—”

“Fuck, nevermind. That was a rhetorical question. Get your keys.”

“ _Jungeun_ ,” Jiwoo starts, but Jungeun’s already making her way out the door.

She pats her pockets and stops. Her phone is still on Jiwoo’s bed. 

“Where...” Jiwoo grumbles from where she’s digging around in her desk.

The keys. The keys are on her nightstand.

Jungeun sighs. 

She walks over to Jiwoo’s bed, pockets her phone and grabs Jiwoo’s keys, tossing the latter to Jiwoo.

“What! Wait, _where—_?”

“Let’s _go_.”

###

“What are the chances we make it out of Suyeon’s apartment tonight?” Jungeun asks. 

Jiwoo turns to look at her, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. She smiles, giving Jungeun a half shrug. Her hair slips off her shoulders, allowing the bows that tie up the straps of her dress to peek out.

“Eh… she hasn’t been blowing up the group chat with drink recipes as much this week, but she’s still in the middle of her feud she’s got going on with that bartender downtown, I think, so. I don’t know. Could go either way, really. An adventure~” she says, laughing when Jungeun rolls her eyes. 

“Going on a _quest_ is an adventure. Not knowing if we’ll get obliterated half an hour in at Suyeon’s”—she points up at the second floor of the complex they’re parked in front of—“is not.”

Jiwoo pretends to consider this then scrunches her nose at Jungeun. “Isn’t it, though?” 

She doesn’t look away until Jungen slouches in her seat. _Maybe get out of the car_ , says a voice in the back of her head. Jungeun sighs and reaches for the door handle.

“I guess,” she concedes gruffly.

“It’s all in the stash,” Jiwoo says, pulling the emergency brake up. She sounds so sure Jungeun actually stops to think about it once she’s out of the van.

“...Suyeon’s stash _is_ … yeah... okay, that makes sense, actually.”

“What a _shock_ ,” Jiwoo fake-gasps, eyes wide.

She shrugs her bag onto her shoulder and locks the door, biting back a laugh when Jungeun jumps at the alarm.

Normally, Jungeun would be annoyed, or at least fake annoyance while they made their way through the complex. It’d give her something to do as they navigate the music and people pouring out from every door on the first two floors. It’d be one of those interactions that give Jungeun some hope that maybe there’s an end to this. That if she just waits herself out long enough, they could be like this all the time again. 

But then something small happens, like the back of Jiwoo’s hand brushing against hers while they squeeze up the stairs to Suyeon’s apartment, and it feels like so much _more_. 

Jungeun’s hope is often short-lived these days. 

_God_ , they couldn’t get to Suyeon’s fast enough.

Lucky for her, Sooyoung’s lingering by the door and she receives them with a loud _Jungeun and Jiwoo!_ when she spots them. Jinsol’s behind her, waving over the small group of people between them, Sooyoung wades right through them, unbothered by the disgruntled looks thrown her way. 

“Maybe if you didn’t stand in the middle of the fucking entrance, _pal_ —”

A voice that sounds like Suyeon’s echoes, _“Jungeun and Jiwoo?”_ from the kitchen and Jinsol doubles back the way she came, Sooyoung ushering them after her and away from the door. 

They catch up to Jinsol leaning over the bar that separates the kitchen and the living room, shoes barely grazing the floor as she stretches to accept the drinks passed her way. She turns to the three of them with a smile, says, “Suyeon says _hi_.”

“ _Hello_ , Suyeon,” Jungeun mumbles appreciatively, picking two at random for her and Jiwoo. She taps them together before Jiwoo can get a word out, downing half of it immediately.

Sooyoung’s leather-clad arm slings around her shoulders as she and Jinsol cheer.

“Right to it, huh?” Jiwoo asks, eyebrows raised. 

Jungeun swirls what’s left in her cup, squinting at the prickly slide of alcohol down her throat.

“Why _not_ ,” she says, and then her cup is empty and Jinsol is swapping it with another.

Besides the stragglers in the entrance and the handful of people in the kitchen, Suyeon’s apartment isn’t _that_ full, most of the party concentrated on the first floor and in the units across the hall. It’s a perfect kickback space. It’s a general consensus among their friend group that becoming the complex’s resident mixologist might be the smartest thing Suyeon’s ever inadvertently done. 

They catch Yoojung right as she skips out of the kitchen, Doyeon close behind with a hand on the small of her back.

“Hey,” Sooyoung says, catching their attention, “look who’s here~”

“Oh?” says Doyeon. Yoojung perks up next to her.

“Jungeun!” 

“Hey,” she says.

“Jiwoo!”

“Hi!”

Yoojung goes to hug them then veers to the side, tripping over nothing. She thrusts an arm out to hold onto Doyeon, but the other girl retracts her hand at the last second, Yoojung’s closing around empty air.

“ _Doyeon,_ ” Yoojung squawks.

She manages to regain her footing on her own, albeit shakily. Doyeon laughs unabashedly even when Yoojung turns around just to frown at her.

When she rights herself to face the rest of them she’s smiling, and then she’s running right at Jungeun and Jiwoo, jumping into a hug that almost knocks them over. Jungeun throws a hand around Yoojung’s back to steady them, Jiwoo jumping in place with excitement.

“Jungeun and Jiwoo. Jiwoo and—and Jungeun!” Yoojung crows, eyes curving as she grins. Sooyoung and Jinsol scoot their way out from behind them, reconvening with Doyeon a safe distance away.

Jiwoo squeezes Yoojung back, trapping Jungeun in their group hug. “Seems you and Jungeun had the same idea,” she says with a laugh.

“Eh?”

“Objective: get smashed?”

Yoojung draws back, squinting at Jiwoo.

“Excuse _me_ , but _you guys_ are _late_. I have worked up to this”—she waves at herself—“at a reasonable, and respectable, pace.” 

Jiwoo’s breath hitches like it does when she’s about to whine, always guilty about arriving late if it’s anyone but Jungeun bringing it up. Yoojung knowing this, smirks.

“Also, Suyeon’s a genius,” she adds, pointing at the kitchen. 

A thumbs up rises over the heads of the people crowding the island. _Thanks!_

Yoojung’s smirk melts into something warmer and she glances over her shoulder at Doyeon before she’s grabbing Jungeun and Jiwoo’s hands. “Come on! Haerim’s in Suyeon’s bedroom.” 

Jungeun and Jiwoo bump shoulders as they’re dragged by a wobbly Yoojung, Doyeon, Sooyoung, and Jinsol trailing them at a _reasonable_ and _respectable_ pace. Jiwoo glances at Jungeun and Jungeun freezes. They’re forced closer as Yoojung slips them through the doorway and Jungeun’s brain practically splits in half thinking of something to say. 

“Not to ruin the adventure thing—”

“Again,” Jiwoo interjects easily, lips quirked up.

“—again.” Jungeun takes it in stride. “But I think I know whether or not we’ll be making it out of Suyeon’s tonight.”

Jiwoo looks at the drinks in their hands, down at Yoojung’s feet, then back up at Jungeun.

“Yeah, I think I do, too,” she says. “Did you want to?”

Jungeun brings her drink to her mouth, making a face at the taste. She’s on her second. Right.

“Nah,” she replies, thinks, _this'll do_. “Haven’t you heard? Suyeon’s a _genius_.”

Jiwoo grins, and then Yoojung’s flinging them forwards, an abrupt end to their conversation. They have to jump to avoid stepping on Haerim who’s lying on the floor, scrolling through something on her phone. 

“Hi, Haerim,” Jiwoo greets.

“Hey,” says Haerim, waving lazily. She holds her hand up as Sooyoung and Jinsol skirt around her, smoke curling out from in between her fingers. Jinsol plucks the blunt out and tips an invisible hat her way, waiting for Sooyoung to sit on the half-deflated bean bag by Suyeon’s bed so she can sit between her legs, back pressed against Sooyoung’s front.

Yoojung and Doyeon sit on the bed, Jiwoo tagging along after them, careful not to spill her drink.

Jungeun blinks at the empty space next to her. 

Her phone buzzes in her back pocket.

Jungeun kicks at Haerim’s feet until she grumbles and moves them enough for Jungeun to sit down. She ignores her phone in favor of finishing what’s left in her cup.

Suyeon walks in with more cups in her hands, stopping short at the door to her room.

“A whole loveseat and ottoman—where…? Where did you even find that bean bag? I thought I threw it out?—but _no_ , everyone has to cram onto the bed and _spill_ onto the floor.”

“Suyeon.” Yoojung gestures flippantly. “We’re gay,” 

Suyeon sighs. “I know,” she says.

“Bitch,” says Sooyoung, “so are _you_.”

“ _I know_.”

Jinsol cackles, Sooyoung and the others quick to join in. They wave Suyeon over, muttering reassurances and accepting her drinks. From there, conversations start up and split off. Jiwoo catches up with Yoojung and Doyeon, Sooyoung and Jinsol speak lowly to each other in an amorphous lump, and Jungeun half-talks to and half-texts Haerim from their twin spots on the floor. 

Occasionally, Jungeun gets up to keep Suyeon company in the kitchen and steal some sips of all the different drinks she’s got going on, but eventually gets shooed out after knocking a line of shot glasses over.

Does that happen, in part, because of the faint buzz she’s managed to achieve? 

Perhaps. 

She isn’t _gone_ or anything, but Jungeun would say she’s accomplished what she’s set out to do. 

Now, if you were to ask her what exactly that was, well, incidentally, she doesn’t quite remember. But she’s having a good time, so. 

Jungeun wanders back into Suyeon’s room after a while, thumbing the wet spot on her shirt she may or may be entirely responsible for. (If she was, it was to escape a conversation with a girl she couldn’t recognize for the life of her—that _without a doubt_ knew Jungeun.) 

Everyone else is still there, though Jiwoo has migrated to the otttoman, Yoojung and Doyeon tangled up in each other on the bed. She looks up when Jungeun walks in, nudging the toe of Jungeun’s converse with her giant boot when Jungeun gets close enough.

“Having fun?” she asks, nodding at the mostly empty cup in Jungeun’s hand.

Jungeun glances down at it, sees flashes of the wasted shots in the kitchen and the girl with no name.

“Yeah… but I’m… done, I think. Here,” she says, pressing the drink into Jiwoo’s grasp along the one she already has. She’s pretty sure Jiwoo’s only on her second, nursing the same drink from the batch Suyeon first brought them. 

Jiwoo gives her a look and the tight, coiling feeling in Jungeun’s chest makes a swift return.

In a way, she supposes forgetting _had_ been what she set out to do. And in remembering—in forgetting to forget—there is tangibility in her accomplishment as well regression. Canceled out, right back to where she was. It’s poetic. It’s ironic. 

It’s _PEMDAS_. 

To their right, bits and pieces of Yoojung and Doyeon’s conversation escape them, Yoojung too unaware or unbothered to talk at a normal volume.

“—was it? Fuck, I can’t remember. What—”

“I don’t know, you said to remind you about the thing you showed me on your phone—”

“ _OH—!_ ”

“Yoojung, shut up.”

“No, fuck you”—a dull, but pronounced flick cuts through her sentence, Yoojung immediately throwing a hand over her forehead—“ _ow_.”

She turns and zeroes in on Jungeun, tries to wave her over in big gestures as if she couldn’t see Yoojung from her spot next to Jiwoo.

“Jungeun. Jung— _Miss Lip!_ ”

The nickname flattens most of Jungeun’s buzz like a mallet. She hangs her head and groans. 

“Yoojung—”

“No, no, we were just talking about you! The other day, I mean. Or was it—? No, it was the other day, right Doyeon? Whatever. I was telling Doyeon that you’d be the perfect person to ask for this, hold on,” she rambles, doing something on her phone before she’s turning it around and holding it out to Jungeun. She has to reach out and steady Yoojung’s hand to actually see what’s on it: a screenshot of some make-up artist’s Instagram post, their eyes closed to show off an elaborate eyeliner look. “Do you think you could do something like this on me? I swear I tried it myself a million times but it was never _right_ and Doyeon was no help whatsoever.”

Jungeun smiles despite herself. That sounds familiar.

She glances at Jiwoo, amused to find a similar expression on her face.

“The parallels between us just get scarier and scarier,” says Jungeun, turning back to Yoojung and Doyeon with a laugh. Yoojung tilts her head in confusion. 

Their hands are intertwined in the space between them. 

Doyeon smirks, Jungeun clears her throat. 

Should’ve thought on that one a little longer.

“I’m really not that great at make-up, Yoojung,” says Jungeun.

“Beg to _differ!_ ” Yoojung replies, and they both know Jungeun doesn’t have anything better to do, so Jungeun ends up sitting in front of Yoojung when she and Doyeon scoot back to make space for her. She has to squint to see what exactly is going on in this _professional make-up artist’s_ picture, the lights in the bedroom dimmed.

“Me next,” Jiwoo says as she stands, picking up some of the cups strewn around the room. 

“What do I look like?” Jungeun asks gruffly.

“Like you’re doing everyone’s make-up,” Jinsol answers, throwing her hands up in the air like she’s on a rollercoaster. “Woo!”

“Woo,” Sooyoung echoes. Haerim bumps her fist up from the floor.

Jungeun sighs. She applies Yoojung’s lipstick _one time_ (Yoojung absolutely _plastered_ at the time) and suddenly she’s entrusted with this—what do you even call it? _Job?_

She’s not lying about not being great at make-up. Jungeun hardly wears it herself. Objectively, it’s easier to do on someone else; she just happens to have steady hands and the ability to mimic a guide pretty closely. 

The _point_ is, she caves because she doesn’t need Yoojung’s pout on her conscience. And it’s not… _that_ bad. Under extreme pressure, Jungeun might even admit that she finds it fun sometimes.

“It’s fun though, right?” Yoojung asks right as Jungeun uncaps the liner, shit-eating grin on her face.

Jungeun frowns, contemplating a world in which Yoojung can read minds. Scary stuff. How do you even troubleshoot that? Think something absurd and wait? _I’ll_ , she thinks, then stops. _I’ll… tell Doyeon about that time—no, fuck, no I won’t, um. Your breath smells. Remember the night you cut your bangs at Jiwoo’s? Yeah, I’m in love with Jiwoo. Wait, fuck,_ fuck _. Forget I thought that. Oh my god. Yoojung—oh my god. Your breath doesn’t actually smell, I swear—_

“Hello?”

Jungeun startles, Yoojung’s fingers so close to her nose she hardly registers her snapping them. 

“Uh.”

“The question wasn’t that hard,” says Yoojung.

“She’s emotionally stunted, leave her alone,” says Sooyoung. 

Jinsol, tucked into her side, echoes the sentiment with a _yeah_.

Yoojung makes a face. “That’s not even true!” 

“I mean,” Haerim says, then trails off, still not looking up from her phone. It might as well be a dissertation in Sooyoung’s favor. 

“Can you, just, hold up the reference, please,” Jungeun says, a hair away from begging. 

Yoojung clicks her tongue, unsatisfied, but complies, stilling when Jungeun presses closer to lay down the first stroke. “Come on, Lip,” she admonishes softly. 

She doesn’t know anything the others don’t. Isn’t a mind reader at least. 

Jungeun blows out her sigh in a pointed breath.

“Whatever,” she says, managing an eyeroll. “You’re right, you’re right. My bad.” 

Her free hand just barely touches Yoojung’s chin to tip it up as she goes back in with the liner. 

Jinsol laughs, a bit late. “Yeah. Come _on_ , Lip.” 

Doyeon snorts, hands loosely around Yoojung’s waist. Jungeun glances over at the two on the bean bag. Sooyoung’s just sitting there, looking fondly at Jinsol. 

She’s about to turn back to Yoojung, the other girl making a warning sound when her hand wavers too close, when Sooyoung takes the blunt from Jinsol’s fingers and dumps it in her cup. Jinsol opens her mouth in protest, quickly silenced when Sooyoung pulls her in for a kiss. 

Jungeun shakes her head, turning back to Yoojung only to find her making eyes at Doyeon and then she’s the one snapping her fingers in Yoojung’s face.

“ _Hey_. None of that. I just started, so, like. Hold it.”

Yoojung smiles, eyebrows furrowing with mirth. 

“Like pee?” 

Jungeun just stares at her before nodding slowly.

“Sure,” she says. “Like pee.”

And hold it Yoojung does, sitting still and holding her phone up for Jungeun the entire time without complaint. It takes her the better chunk of ten minutes, but by the end Jungeun considers the look a success, pleased with the outcome. Yoojung squeals in excitement and hugs Jungeun, giving her a haphazard but sincere _thank you_ before tugging on Doyeon’s ear and toppling her over so they’re flat on the bed.

Jungeun gets up to avoid getting hit by Yoojung’s feet, still holding her eyeliner. She glances at Jiwoo where she’s lying on the ottoman, mouth going dry. She clenches her fists and swallows. _Act fucking_ normal _, Jungeun._

She bumps her foot against the bottom of the ottoman.

“You… bored?” she asks.

“Hm?” Jiwoo tilts her head up. “Oh. Oh, no! I’ve been texting Haerim.”

Haerim flashes them a peace sign from the floor.

“Ah. I see.” 

Jiwoo drops her phone into her lap and stretches her limbs straight out, making grabby hands at Jungeun. 

Jungeun smiles tightly and is just about to toss the liner to the back of Yoojung’s head when—

“Wait, no, me next!” Jiwoo protests.

“You—you’re serious?” Jungeun says.

Jiwoo nods her _duh_ nod. 

Jungeun’s got a _bad_ feeling about this. 

“Yoojung, can I borrow this?” 

Jungeun’s pretty sure she knows what the answer will be, but it’s more of a courtesy thing. 

“Go for it,” Yoojung says, arm hooked around Doyeon’s neck. They’re crammed against the bed’s headboard, legs tangled as they look at something on Doyeon’s phone. She turns to Jungeun, says, “Hey, thanks again. Seriously! You _killed_ it.”

Jungeun ducks her head and waves her off.

“So talented,” Jiwoo croons, stomping her boots lightly as Jungeun steps over to her. 

“Come on, Lip!” Jinsol cheers, flushed from Sooyoung just about _mauling_ her.

Buzz all but entirely gone at this point, Jungeun’s left with a vague twist in her stomach at the sight of Jiwoo that she can’t will away. She rolls her lips together, trying to calculate just exactly how she’s going to do this. With Yoojung there’d been plenty of room for the both of them _and_ Doyeon, but the ottoman was barely big enough for two people to sit on and Jiwoo was _not_ making moves to get up. 

Jiwoo wordlessly pats her thigh. 

_Pat, pat_. 

Jungeun doesn’t move. Just stands there, blinking. Jiwoo waits, and upon realizing Jungeun isn’t following instructions, rolls her eyes and sits up enough to grab Jungeun’s wrist, pulling her down. 

Jungeun barely misses kneeing Jiwoo in the stomach, flinching so it lands precariously in a space at Jiwoo’s side. They both sink a little, the ottoman shifting under their weight.

“This… won’t work,” Jiwoo says after observing for a moment. “Your core strength is… lacking.”

“First of all,” Jungeun starts, offended, “how dare you? My core strength wouldn’t be the problem if you _sat up_. Secondly, I hate that you know that.”

Jiwoo smirks and Jungeun does her best not to betray any of the other emotions coursing through her. What’s an emotion? Never heard of those.

(She thinks back to Sooyoung saying she’s emotionally stunted and shudders at the thought of telling Sooyoung she’s right about anything, ever.)

Jungeun waves the eyeliner in the space between them. “What do you suppose I do, then?” she asks, leaning forward with unfounded confidence.

Jiwoo’s eyes flash, and then she’s scooping a hand around the back of Jungeun’s standing leg, hauling it over her torso so it lands in the free space by her other side. Jungeun flounders, forced to put her hands down on either side of Jiwoo’s head so she doesn’t fall.

She has, to her horror, been manhandled into straddling Jiwoo, by Jiwoo.

“Excuse me,” she wheezes.

“This is better, no?” Jiwoo says innocently.

 _Too_ innocently.

Jungeun narrows her eyes.

“What—”

“Ooh, Jungeun and Jiwoo! _Let’s gooo!”_ Sooyoung yells, swooping down to kiss Jinsol again. 

Haerim wrinkles her nose, mumbling, “Can y’all get a room?”

Jinsol pulls away long enough to say, “This _is_ a room,” dropping an invisible mic and winking at Jungeun before going back to Sooyoung with a goofy smile, precisely as Suyeon walks in to check on them.

Suyeon scans the room, sees Sooyoung and Jinsol, then Doyeon and Yoojung who are loudly booing them despite still being tangled up in each other on the bed, then Jungeun and Jiwoo on the ottoman. Her left eyebrow twitches at the last two but she just purses her lips and looks down at Haerim.

“You good?” she asks.

Haerim shrugs and a loud crash rings out from the kitchen. Suyeon swears and runs back out of the room, shouting, “ _No sex on my bed!_ ”

“Anywhere else is fine then?” Haerim says dryly though Suyeon’s already gone. The other six laugh, Haerim grinning before turning her attention back to her phone.

Jungeun reluctantly turns hers back to Jiwoo.

“So,” she swallows, “you want the look I did for Yoojung?”

“Mm, sure. Simplified, though. If you want. I was rushed out of the house before I could do anything myself, so,” says Jiwoo, breaking off into a laugh at the increasingly indignant look on Jungeun’s face.

“Wow,” says Jungeun. “Playing the long game.”

Jiwoo’s laughter fades into an odd little smile. She looks Jungeun up and down in a way that feels… _pointed_. “Yeah,” she says.

Jungeun looks away as she shakes the pen in her hand.

What the fuck is going _on_? 

Jungeun somehow finds it within herself to focus and actually start doing something on Jiwoo. It helps that she has to keep her eyes closed for long periods of time, Jungeun opting for a simplified version of Yoojung's look like Jiwoo suggested. In part because she didn’t remember all the details of Yoojung’s reference, and in part because the less time Jungeun spent like _this_ , the better.

And, _oh_ , would _this_ absolutely haunt Jungeun until the day she dies.

Jiwoo’s hands are loosely bracketing Jungeun’s legs. They’re so close Jungeun can feel the heat of her fingertips through the outer seams of her jeans, burning through the fabric and onto her skin. She has to be pretty close to see, like with Yoojung—but _unlike_ with Yoojung, Jungeun’s hyper aware of whether or not her breath is hitting Jiwoo despite her mouth being clamped shut. Jiwoo also just _stares_ at her in the small breaks where Jungeun touches her face to adjust the angle.

It’s a feat of sheer willpower that Jungeun doesn’t do something disastrous and go running for the hills. 

Jungeun winces. 

Maybe not the hills.

“Yo, you guys look like those girls I see on my timeline every other day,” Haerim pipes up after a while.

Jiwoo blinks, asks, “What girls?”

“They’re gay,” Haerim says.

“Thanks,” Jungeun replies dryly, deliberately looking _only_ at the line she’s working on. “That narrows it down.”

“Give me a sec,” she tuts.

Someone behind Jungeun snaps.

“Oh, Haerim, I know _exactly_ what you’re talking about. Holy shit, you’re right.”

Yoojung.

Jungeun shuts her eyes with a small sigh.

Of course Yoojung knows.

“Wait. Me too,” Sooyoung says after a gross _pop_. “I have it saved somewhere, I’ll send it to you, Haerim.”

“Ha. Thanks.”

“Show me!” Jiwoo says excitedly. 

Jungeun doubles down on the line she’s doing that suddenly _won’t_ _cooperate_. 

There’s some tapping and a triumphant _yes!_

Haerim gets up, leaning towards Jiwoo and Jungeun to show them the picture. And as much as Jungeun wants to disassociate herself from what she sees, she can’t. Jiwoo can’t either it seems, since she laughs, more delighted by this whole thing than Jungeun. Her hands shift almost imperceptibly against Jungeun’s legs. 

Is it hot in here...? When did it get so hot in here?

“You guys should take a picture like that,” Sooyoung calls out, to Yoojung’s immediate, and _loud,_ approval. “Give Haerim that sweet, sweet platinum tweet.”

Doyeon and Jinsol mutter _bars_ at the exact same time, leaning over Yoojung and Sooyoung respectively to high five each other. Yoojung squeals, already scrambling off Suyeon’s bed to help Haerim.

“Wait,” Junguen starts, mind racing. Everyone got on board _way_ too fucking fast.

“Why not?” Jiwoo chirps, preening under Yoojung’s hands as the other girl adjusts her hair.

“Um,” she says.

Haerim glances at her then grins, sliding some of the hair that frames Jungeun’s face behind her ear. “Yeah, Jungeun. Why not?”

So, Haerim can officially go fuck herself. 

Actually, Jungeun’s feeling generous, the invitation is extended to all of their friends. This feels like a blatant conspiracy against her. A conspiracy she’s completely helpless to at this point. 

Looking at Jiwoo like this—her lying there, Jungeun hovering over her, more aware than ever of the ache in her chest that’s been festering since that day on the hill, all under the attentive gaze of everyone else in the room—is agony. 

“If you keep your hands there and lift the liner a bit more. You’re kind of just staring at each other which—is perfect, actually. Okay, hold that.”

The eyeliner feels heavy in Jungeun’s hand. Like someone just put it there, though she knows that’s not the case. She’d used it less than a minute ago. 

Jungeun raises the pen half-heartedly, Haerim already taking pictures, flash eating up her peripheral vision, locking her and Jiwoo into the worst staring contest ever known to man. 

Jungeun feels so horribly _seen_. 

Sooyoung makes a comment about trying without the flash and Doyeon gets up to turn on different overhead lights. In the lull where everyone’s shuffling around, Haerim and Yoojung looking for the best angle, Jiwoo doesn’t break eye contact _once_. 

“How’s it look?” she asks.

Jungeun opens and closes her mouth, mind so profoundly blank it’s scary. She manages to breathe out a, “ _Huh_?”

Jiwoo responds by closing her eyes then opening one. A backwards wink, sort of. 

“The eyeliner?” she says.

“Oh,” says Jungeun. “It’s—you—honestly? I’m—I’m _not_ thinking about the fucking eyeliner right now.”

Jiwoo’s grin starts looking like a smirk and Jungeun’s so _fucked_ , god. Her fingers twitch against Jungeun’s thighs and then her hands are at the back of her knees again, this time pulling them so Jungeun inevitably sinks lower over her, face heating up.

Haerim says something that sounds like, “ _Perfect_ ,” and, “ready?” but she and Jiwoo are lost in their stupid staring contest, the gnarled fist that usually sits in Jungeun’s chest bleeding out of her and into the space between them, and Jiwoo has to notice it. She _has_ to. There’s no way she doesn’t. And this is Jungeun’s nightmare scenario, but she can’t look away because _Jiwoo_ isn’t looking away. Isn’t shoving her off, isn’t asking her what’s _wrong_ with her. She’s looking right back at Jungeun, lids drooping and hair fanned out around her head like a halo—and she looks just like she did that day on the hill.

Just like she does in the picture that sits behind the time on Jungeun’s phone.

“Jungeun,” Jiwoo says softly.

“Yeah?” she whispers.

Jiwoo’s eyes drop to her mouth.

“Kiss me.”

Something shatters. Jungeun’s not sure what. It could be every window in the complex, the very earth under them, every single synapse in her brain—Jungeun doesn’t know, and more importantly, she doesn’t care. She could very well be dead. 

Jiwoo slides her hands up to Jungeun’s waist, and—okay, nevermind, she is most definitely _not_ dead.

She might pass the fuck out though, if her heart doesn’t dislodge itself from her throat. 

“Really?” she says, fighting to inhale at least once.

Jiwoo nods her _duh_ nod and the floor trembles with bass from the speakers downstairs and almost all of their friends are watching and Jungeun doesn’t _care_. Her hand is shaking when she touches the base of Jiwoo’s jaw, but Jiwoo smiles at her and Jungeun finally, finally, _finally_ closes the distance between them.

She almost stops there, overwhelmed at the first touch of their mouths, but Jiwoo sighs through her nose and slides a hand up Jungeun’s back, pressing down lightly, and Jungeun melts, sinks the rest of the way down onto her. If the room had felt warm before it was _nothing_ compared to this. Everywhere she touches Jiwoo _sears_ her, heat spreading through her like she’s been doused in gasoline and she can’t get enough of it, of being on fire. She kisses Jiwoo like it's an act of reverence, painstakingly savoring every single second she gets as if it's her last. 

Jiwoo doesn’t seem to have any complaints, tilting her head so their lips fit together more comfortably, threading her fingers through the hair at the base of Jungeun’s skull. It feels so good Jungeun goes back to doubting whether she’s alive again.

“Oh my god? Oh my _god_ ,” someone says, gasping, and it’s only then that Jungeun realizes their friends have upheld an almost constant running commentary the entire time they were… occupied.

Jiwoo’s nose scrunches up as she tries not to laugh and Jungeun knows they’re about to part. She swipes a thumb across Jiwoo’s cheek, noses bumping together as she pulls back, stopping before she’s too far away. The eyeliner sits by Jiwoo’s head, discarded, and Jungeun picks it up again, eyes darting all over Jiwoo’s face. There’s so much she wants to say. Jungeun feels it all packed into a fist in her throat, waiting to punch its way out now that her heart’s out of the way, but she can’t. Not here, not all of it. 

For now, she settles on flicking some of Jiwoo’s hair out of her face, touching her cheek again and telling her, “Your bangs look fucking _perfect_.”

Because it’s just for Jiwoo, and Jungeun knows Jiwoo understands—is told as much by the hand on her back and the smile on Jiwoo’s face.

“Thanks, Jungeun.”

Jungeun smiles back. 

“Come _on_ , Lip!” 

They both turn at Jinsol’s cheer. Yoojung’s closest to them, standing shell shocked next to a very smug Haerim. Doyeon, Sooyoung, and Jinsol are all saying different things, words jumbling together into an indecipherable chorus. Jungeun’s pretty sure Jinsol’s just chanting _come on, Lip!_ over and over.

Even Suyeon is there, leaning against the doorway with more cups in hand, disbelief plain on her face.

“Wow,” she says. “Didn’t think you guys would get that out of the way”—Suyeon waves her hands vaguely in their direction—“like this.”

Jungeun wants to ask what that means, but Jiwoo traces a finger behind her ear to repin the hairs that’d slipped out from behind it and Jungeun decides that that can wait for another day.

Yoojung clears her throat.

“Do you—? Do you guys want to see the pictures?” 

Jungeun wonders if Sooyoung and Jinsol felt like this the first time they kissed in front of the rest of them. It’s definitely one of the stranger things Jungeun’s experienced. 

She can’t really remember any details from the day of the Sooyoung-Jinsol kiss. Maybe it’ll be the same for them. Maybe hers and Jiwoo’s will prove more memorable, taking on a life of its own elsewhere. 

“Sure,” she says, sitting up fully but not getting off Jiwoo’s lap. 

Jiwoo keeps her hands on Jungeun’s hips. 

_Not dead, not dead, not dead._

Haerim bumps Yoojung out of the way, turning her phone so Jungeun and Jiwoo can see. 

“Oh,” says Jungeun.

“Wow,” says Jiwoo.

Sooyoung nods sagely.

“Platinum tweet.” 

“Nice one, Lip,” Doyeon says. “And Jiwoo.”

Jungeun squirms as Jiwoo hooks her fingers through her belt loops.

“Thanks,” they say.

“So, to double check, I can post this?” Haerim asks, attention quickly slipping away from them and back to her phone. Yoojung peeks over her shoulder, Doyeon doing the same over Yoojung’s head.

She looks down at Jiwoo which at this point is a test in Jungeun’s self restraint because now that she’s kissed her it’s really hard to _not_. Jiwoo shrugs.

“We look good?” she offers.

Jungeun nods. 

They certainly do.

“Yeah,” she says.

Haerim takes it, sinking to the floor as she taps away. Yoojung and Doyeon hop onto the bed, heads on either side of Haerim’s, already going back and forth about captions. 

Suyeon sidles up to Sooyoung and Jinsol, the latter taking the drinks off her hands. 

“To you two,” says Jinsol, raising her cup and bumping it against Sooyoung’s. She brings a hand up around Sooyoung’s waist and the two of them wander their way into the living room, listing towards each other as they speak.

“So, what next?” Suyeon asks.

Jungeun glances at Jiwoo tentatively. 

“Probably… probably go to yours?” 

“Yes,” says Jiwoo. “Things to discuss, and such.”

“Right. And such.”

“Uh-huh,” says Suyeon. “Are you driving? I can take you.”

“I didn’t have that much, but I’ll hang out for a bit and let you know? Appreciate it, Suyeon.”

“No problem,” she says, “seriously, let me know. You know where to find me.”

Suyeon flutters her fingers in a little wave and exits the room, Jungeun staring at the doorway long after she’s out of sight. Her legs are starting to protest the straddling, so she goes to swing one over Jiwoo’s torso, stopping short when Jiwoo doesn’t let go of her belt loops.

“...Yes?” she says, eyebrows up.

Jiwoo struggles to find her words. Her fingers unfurl with a sigh and Jungeun slips off her to sit at the edge of the ottoman, legs stretched in front of her. Jiwoo pushes herself up so her face is level with Jungeun’s, gaze wandering over her. 

“A _lot_ of things to discuss, huh?”

Jungeun hums. 

“And _such_.”

Jiwoo shoves at her shoulder.

“Can I just say,” says Jungeun, “that I never in a hundred years would’ve expected the ‘ _kiss me_ ’ thing?”

“I did _not_ say it like that.”

“‘ _Kiss me, Jungeun.’_ ”

“Shut _up_. Oh my god.”

“Now _that_ was an adventure.”

Jiwoo groans, burying her face in her hands.

“Just wait until we get back to mine,” she grumbles.

A shiver shoots up Jungeun’s spine. 

“Well, now I literally can’t, thank you so much.”

Brown eyes peek out from under Jiwoo’s bangs, shining with something devilish.

Yeah, Jungeun’s still fucked. 

But at least this time it’s in the best possible way.

Well.

Maybe second best.

###

The next time Jungeun and Jiwoo drive out to the hills, they’re on a date.

It looks about the same as when it wasn’t a date, except for the part where Jungeun’s hands don’t shake at the thought of feeding Jiwoo all the strawberries she could ever want. 

Except for the part where, when she has her head in Jiwoo’s lap and finds herself with something to say, she says it. And after, she gets the sweetest kisses in the history of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> was supposed to be a little kiss fic and then it grew a couple extra thousand words. pain
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/itsmclovinbot) & [cc](https://curiouscat.me/lexiconartist)


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